The Return of The Loser
by Amarth Obstreperous
Summary: Superheros always have special powers. X-ray vision, super speed, super strength, you name it. But what if there was a Superhero whose power was the ability to drive people insane...with LOTR information? R&R, I beg of thee!
1. She's baaaack

Disclaimer: Don't own LOTR. Wish I did, but don't. C'est la vie.  
  
Warning: This may contain spoilers for those of you who haven't read the books. So beware.  
  
I wrote a fic about this a long time ago. It was called 'The Loser'. You don't have to read it before this, but it might help you if you get confused.  
  
Almost all of its reviewers clamored for a sequel.  
  
So here it is.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
*********************  
  
Bright lights flashed, shrill alarms blared, and guards ran about the halls.  
  
There had been a prison break. The first one ever to occur in this specific penitentiary, which was less than a year old and chock full of hi- tech equipment.  
  
Unfortunately, all that hi-tech equipment had caused the circuits to short out. And during the blackout, four inmates had obviously realized the cells weren't locked anymore.  
  
So they had escaped, with very little effort. And since four hours had gone by before their absence was noted, they were probably miles away by now.  
  
Search parties had been sent out in all four directions, but so far there had been no luck. It was unlikely they would ever be located  
  
~~~  
  
The Warden paced frantically about his office, sweat pouring off his face. The alarm system kept screaming, and it wasn't helping him much.  
  
Like the prison, the Warden was relatively new at his job. And right now, with four convicts missing, he was absolutely terrified of being fired.  
  
Frantically, the Warden continued to walk quickly back and forth across the room. Nervous beyond comprehension, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  
  
His pacing came to a sudden halt, as his fingers closed around a crumpled scrap of paper.  
  
With shaking fingers, the Warden pulled the paper from his pocket and smoothed it out carefully. It was a letter he had received several days ago. From a friend of his, William McGee.  
  
McGee was a police officer in a nearby town, and he had recently written to the Warden about yet another incident where he had relied upon the help of...a Superhero?  
  
The Warden had heard William speak of this Superhero several times before, but had always doubted that some freak with a costume could have succeeded where trained civil servicemen had not.  
  
But right now, the Warden was desperate. He was willing to try anything, short of selling his soul.  
  
Squinting at the paper in the dim lamplight, he was able to make out the number William had called to contact his mysterious aid: 1-800-F-E-L-L-O-W- S-H-I-P.  
  
The Warden nearly tripped over the carpet as he rushed to his desk and grabbed the phone.  
  
~~~  
  
The quarter-moon was low in the sky, and the four figures that raced along the deserted highway were barely visible in its dim glow.  
  
Their boots made soft thudding noises as they moved. They weren't really running anymore, seeing as their chances of getting caught were very slim. They were now content to jog at an easygoing pace, slow but never stopping.  
  
Two of the men were jogging close to each other, whispering conspiratorially. Their names were Chris DuVall and Benny Mezzino. These two scoundrels had actually been planning to escape for quite awhile, and had taken the sudden power failure as a sign that now was the time to leave. So abandoning their previous plans, they had simply run away.  
  
The other two men were Robbie Brown and John Delansky. They were just a couple of guys who had happened to be awake enough to see Chris and Benny exit their cells and depart. They had followed suit, and thus escaped as well.  
  
John Delansky shifted nervously as he ran. When he had arrived at the prison, he had been extremely twitchy and easily startled. He had talked in his sleep often, and his nightmares usually scared him awake.  
  
Nowadays Delansky was much better, rarely twitching and mostly managing to stay asleep at night.  
  
But it sure didn't help him when Robbie Brown suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and shrieked like a girl.  
  
Chris DuVall and Benny Mezzino skidded to a halt and spun around. But upon seeing nothing but their two traveling companions, they became angry.  
  
"Hey, what was that about Brown?" Duvall snarled. 'Why you gotta screech like that no--"  
  
"LOOK!" Robbie Brown screamed again, his eyes as big as saucers. He pointed a shaking finger up at the sky.  
  
Three more heads turned upwards to face the moon, and audible gasps came from them all.  
  
Flying across the sky, silhouetted by the moon, was the shape of a giant eagle. Its wingspan must have been more than eight feet across.  
  
And it was turning, wheeling in the sky above them.  
  
Without any warning, it suddenly shot straight down. Directly towards them.  
  
Delansky tried to scream, but no sound came from his throat.  
  
Robbie Brown shrieked again and threw himself flat on his face, but the eagle raised his wings and dug his talons into the gravel on the road. He stopped just short of crashing into the four convicts.  
  
DuVall and Mezzino stared at the giant bird, their mouths hanging open in astonishment.  
  
Sitting atop its back was a skinny figure wearing what looked like a pointy wizard's hat.  
  
It was a girl. A skinny little girl. And she was carrying a thick book under her arm.  
  
Robbie Brown raised his head from the ground.  
  
"W-what's t-that?" He stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at the eagle.  
  
"Gwaihir."  
  
Brown's head shot up as DuVall and Mezzino whirled around to face Delansky. The man was standing there staring wide-eyed at the eagle. It was he who had spoken.  
  
"That's Gwaihir the Windlord." Delansky said again, his voice full of fear.  
  
A sudden crunching noise made them all spin around. The figure that had been sitting on the eagle had dismounted, her feet landing noisily on the deserted road.  
  
John Delansky screamed. And it wasn't girly shriek like Brown's. It was a real, full-fledge scream.  
  
Puzzled, DuVall squinted his eyes, trying to get a good look at the girl.  
  
In addition to her blue wizard's hat, she wore a green cape, suspenders, a pair of short corduroy pants (they only came down to her knees) and a white button-up shirt.  
  
Hardly something to get hysterical about, but John Delansky was beyond terrified.  
  
The girl stepped forward, until she was standing about five feet from the prisoners. She tipped her hat ever so slightly, then smiled.  
  
"Suilad, good gentleman! Might I ask what you are doing, trying to escape from the claws of justice before you have your full imprisonment sentence has been carried out?"  
  
She glanced at Delansky, who had gone dead white.  
  
"Haven't I seen you before?" She asked him, cocking her head to the side.  
  
The man gulped loudly, then responded.  
  
"Yeah. My name's John Delansky. I robbed a bank with a couple of guys. You caught us."  
  
"I knew I remembered you!" The girl exclaimed. "But what happened to your friends?"  
  
"They're both in mental institutions." Delansky said softly  
  
"I see." The girl looked serious for a moment. Then her face brightened again.  
  
"I know! Why don't you run back to prison now and turn yourself in? If you do that, I promise I won't come after you again. Okay?"  
  
Delansky didn't need to be asked twice. Two seconds later, he was galloping back the way he had come, screaming and twitching.  
  
The three remaining prisoners witnessed his departure with shocked expressions. Gwaihir screeched loudly, and they whipped their heads back around to stare at the girl and bird.  
  
"Any of you gentlemen want to follow his lead?" The girl said, still smiling.  
  
"What the hell?!" Mezzino snarled. "You think we're gonna just run back off to prison now? I don't think so! We're leaving, and no giant mutated eagle's gonna stop us, let alone a little shrimp of a girl!"  
  
The eagle slitted his eyes and ruffled his feathers in annoyance.  
  
"Gwaihir's not gonna do anything." The girl said. "I'm the one you should be afraid of. I am The Loser. I am a Superhero. You are bad guys, and I am here to stop you."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"What?!" Shouted Robbie Brown, very much confused.  
  
"Oh never mind," The Loser said. "You'll see in a moment."  
  
In one fluid motion, Loser flipped open the large book, and ran her finger down the page.  
  
"How many of you know who the Ents are?" She asked, without looking up.  
  
"The what?" Chris DuVall asked.  
  
"The Ents. They look like walking talking trees, about fourteen feet high with smooth, bark like skin and twiggy beards. Their language is.unhasty, to say the least, and filled with adjectives. They drink a substance known as Entwash, which was responsible for the several-inch growth of the hobbits Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, who befriended Treebeard in Fangorn forest. Treebeard was the lord of Fangorn forest, and one of the oldest Ents still alive. He first ran into Merry and Pippin after they had escaped the Orcs and Uruk-hai who had been carrying them to Saruman the White, the head of the Five Istari and the White Council. Although Saruman really had no claim to those titles, seeing as he had long since become corrupt, desiring the One Ring of Sauron for himself. Sauron being, of course, the present Dark Lord, the former right-hand Maia of the Ainur Morgoth Bauglir, who had been defeated in the First Age. Oh, and did I mention all the female Ents, the Entwives that is, dissape-"  
  
"AAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Robbie Brown screamed. He began rolling around on the ground, twisting and writhing in the throes of insufferable agony.  
  
Sighing, The Loser held up her book.  
  
"Do you understand now? I have before me an entire copy of Lord of the Rings, plus a plethora of facts and names from The Hobbit, The Silmarillion and Lost Tales stored in my head. No one except the devout worshippers of Tolkien have ever been able to withstand my lectures. Hence, why your friend is now mentally unstable. He's ingested too many facts."  
  
Sweat pouring off his face, Benny Mezzino stumbled backwards. His vision blurred before him, and he couldn't seem to focus. His brain was malfunctioning.  
  
"'You do not know your danger, Theoden'" The Loser quoted, not even looking back down at the book. "'These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table, or the small doings of their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, and remoter cousins to the ninth degree.' And most certainly they would! Hobbits are rather simple creatures, very quaint and sociable, if neither very wise nor very powerful. But they're stubborn, too, and can fight when they have a mind. Why, just look at the Scouring of the Shire! All it took was the arrival of the four Fellowship hobbits, and everything blew up! Saruman and Grima killed, the ruffians expelled, everyone in the Lockholes was set free. And thanks to the contents of the box Galadriel gave Samwise Gamgee, all the trees grew back super quick!"  
  
With a loud gurgling moan, Mezzino collapsed on the ground. His eyes had rolled back until only the whites were visible, and he was gasping for air.  
  
"Too.much.information!" He wheezed, choking and spitting.  
  
DuVall, although not far short of fainting himself, was still able to stand up. He stared at the prone form of his friend for about two seconds.  
  
Then, his head shot up at his eyes fixed squarely on The Loser.  
  
"I-I give up." He murmured in a small squeaky voice. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees.  
  
"You win."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Y-yeah. Cuff me and take me back. Just don't mention the word 'hobbit' to me *ever again*!"  
  
"Wow, thanks!"  
  
~~~  
  
Within two hours, all was back to normal.  
  
A highway patrol vehicle had picked up John Delansky walking down a highway. He was brought back to the prison, but not punished.  
  
The Warden, feeling much better, had retired to his house. He was now sitting in bed with a cup of tea, watching late night infomercials.  
  
Robbie Brown and Chris DuVall were returned via eagle flight, cuffed with handcuffs and bound tightly with Lorien rope. They each served a week of solitary confinement, and an addition on their sentences.  
  
Benny Mezzino was returned by the same methods, but not in the same state of mind. The following day, he was shipped of to an asylum, suffering from severe brain trauma.  
  
~~~  
  
All in a day's work for The Loser. She got the call, found the crooks, apprehended them and used her power of Tolkien knowledge to immobilize them  
  
It was the same old routine, but she never tired of it. The criminals always crumpled eventually, they couldn't bear the strain of so much complicated information.  
  
But unbeknownst to out heroine, she was soon to face an enemy that would prove just as strong as she.  
  
********************************  
  
Okay, what do you all think? Tell me.  
  
R&R, please! 


	2. Louis and the lunatic

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR. Nor do I own Gwaihir the Windlord. But I made up practically all the other characters in this fic.  
  
Also, nothing in this chapter was derived from anybody else's fics. Any relation is purely coincidental. Please do not sue me. I need the money to see TTT as many times as possible.  
  
And to The Dishwasher: The reason she's known as 'The Loser' is because a girl who'd been forced to listen to my Tolkien lectures at summer camp was the one who suggested the name. It just seemed suitable.  
  
****************  
  
"Louis, would you mind taking the bus down to Seaside Bank and cashing in this check?"  
  
"Okay Grandma, sure."  
  
~~~~~  
  
*Twenty Minutes Later*  
  
Whose bright idea was it to build a bank right next to a tall, steep, seaside cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom?! Louis P. Daisy thought miserably.  
  
His entire body was currently being squashed against a glass wall by a panicked, overweight woman in dire need of a breath mint.  
  
The reason for the squashing was simple enough: Seaside Banks was being robbed.  
  
And the customers had been told by the bank robber to stand against the *glass* wall and shut up.  
  
Louis, being the short, scrawny pre-teen that he was, had immediatly been shoved and pinned to the wall by the massive rush of people. They had been quite eager to obey the robber's orders, seeing as he weilded a machine gun.  
  
But this wasn't an ordinary bank robber. Louis was sure of it. The guy really didn't need the gun to scare people. He was a certified lunatic.  
  
"Okay, fill those bags up straightaway, Missie!" The lunatic shouted at the teller. "And I mean it! Harry Potter married Voldemort, Carrie White became a devout Buddhist, and the Watership Down bunny rabbits were all sold in a pet shop! Keep the money coming! And all of you over there keep quiet!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Oh, yeah. This guy was definetly missing a few cards in his deck. Forget robbing a bank wearing a purple business suit, a red tie and a bright yellow ski mask. Who in their right mind would spew out such idiotic plotlines while demanding cash?!  
  
Louis could hear frightened whispers coming from somewhere to his left. He rolled his eyes and wished for the love of God they would shut up before the lunatic hear--  
  
"Hey! I said KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE!"  
  
The lunatic raised his machine gun, and rapidly fired it over the heads of the whisperers. There were several screams, then loud cracking noises as the bullets punctured numerous holes though the glass wall.  
  
Louis watched as a thin crack slowly made its way down from a bullet hole, and snaked right past his eye.  
  
Uh-oh Was all Louis had time to think before the glass wall abruptly snapped and exploded into a million shards.  
  
Cut and bleeding, Louis plummeted towards the jagged rocks below. Screaming bloody murder, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for a quick death...  
  
Suddenly, Louis felt his fall being broken by a hard, but slightly poofy surface. The twelve-year-old boy's arm was immediatly grasped in a tight hold, preventing him from sliding off the poofy surface.  
  
Opening his eyes, Louis looked around in openmouthed shock.  
  
He was laying on the back of what appeared to be a giant brown eagle. The rider of the eagle was the one gripping his arm.  
  
At first glance, Louis thought the rider was a wizard. But upon noting the two braided pigtails that hung down the rider's back, Louis realized it was a girl. A girl wearing a blue wizard's hat on her head.  
  
The girl turned. Seeing his wide-eyed expression, she grinned happily.  
  
"You alright?" She shouted, her voice loud yet comforting in the blowing wind. "Gwaihir's gonna take us around, okay?"  
  
Gwaihir?! Louis' eyes widened even more. As in 'Gwaihir the Windlord?' From Lord of the Rings? There's no way...!  
  
But there apparently was a way, because that's who Louis was lying on.  
  
True to the girl's word, Gwaihir made a lazy u-turn and swooped back towards the bank, aiming straight for the shattered wall.  
  
With a violent jerk, the giant eagle pulled up just short of crashing headfirst into the shattered glass pane. Gwaihir quickly twisted around and slammed sideways into it.  
  
Louis was pulled to his feet as the girl jumped up atop the eagle. Running across Gwaihir's back and jumping over his head, the girl dragged Louis through the gaping hole in the glass and back into the bank.  
  
The lunatic, like everyone else in the bank, was momentarily stunned at the arrival of the giant eagle. The girl used the distraction to run up to the lunatic, snatch the machine gun from his hands and hurl it out the broken window.  
  
Wrenching his arm from the girl's hold, Louis fell to the floor, kissing the moldy blue carpet with relief. He was alive!  
  
"Suilad, villanous freak! How dare you attempt a bank robbery, and allow an innocent boy to plummet to his death?!"  
  
Louis paused mid-kiss and lifted his face from the carpet.  
  
The girl was facing the insane bank robber, her hands on her hips.  
  
And Louis duly noted that her outfit was just about as weird the lunatic's. In addition to the hat, she wore a green cape and a pair of brown pants that were obviously *way* too short for her.  
  
Also, she wore no shoes. And there was a really big, fat book tucked under her arm.  
  
She looked impatient as she waited for the lunatic to respond.  
  
"Sooy-lad? Is that some type of Chinese food?" The lunatic giggled happily. "Speak first, my little pixie! Who are *you*?"  
  
"I'm no pixie!" The girl exclaimed angrily. "I am The Loser. I am a Superhero. You are a bad guy, and I am here to stop you!"  
  
The lunatic grinned insanely.  
  
"So, a Superhero is it?" He said. "How amusing! What lovely identities they're thinking up these days! Do you plan to marry Legolas?"  
  
"What?! Absolutly not!" The Loser cried. "He never marries. He sails off with Gimli to the Undying Lands after King Elessar's death. Year 120 of the Fourth Age, I believe."  
  
The lunatic's insane grin immediatly vanished from his face. It was replaced by a nasty leer.  
  
"Ah, so you think you can drive me insane with your knowledge?" He hissed. "I have heard of you before, Loser, and I know of your deeds! But do not think you can best me so easily! For I am the Non-Canonable Mr. Mezz, and in me, you may find you have bitten of FAR more than you can chew!!!"  
  
"I beg to differ, Non-Canonable." The Loser smiled grimly. "Just watch and listen!"  
  
Quick as a flash, Loser flipped open the huge book.  
  
"'It was Gil-Galad, Elven King and Elendil of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron, though they themselves perished in the deed; and Isildur Elendil's son cut the Ring from Sauron's hand and took it for his own.'" The Superhero girl announced in a loud, clear voice.  
  
Loser's eyes bored holes through Non-Canonable as she spoke.  
  
"Let's start from that, shall we? Now, Sauron did not fully perish when Isildur fought him on the slopes of Amon Amarth--Mount Doom, that is-- because the One Ring was not destroyed. Isildur was affected by its powers and chose to keep the Ring, but due to unlucky circumstances, The King's troop was attacked by Orcs when he was headed to Rivendell. Isildur was shot to death by arrows, due to the treatchery of the One Ring. But going back on topic, Sauron's spirit remained and soon he grew in strength and gathered evil forces to him--"  
  
"Was his son included in the evil forces?" Non-Canonable's voice was sickeningly sweet.  
  
"Son?!" Loser scoffed. "What are you talking about? The Dark Lord Sauron had no son!"  
  
"Of course he did!" The lunatic in the purple suit replied cheerily. "Sauron married a beautiful elf-maiden, and they had a son with hair as dark as raven feathers, and eyes as fiery as flames..."  
  
"Excuse me?!" The Loser shreiked. "'Fiery as flames'? That's not even proper writing! Sauron was a Maia, and Morgoth Bauglir's former right-hand man. He has no children!"  
  
"Ah!" Non-Canonable smirked. "Now do you finally understand the extent of my powers?!"  
  
"You have no powers." Loser said. "Your rediculous lies offer no true threat."  
  
"You lie!"  
  
"You're right." The Loser drew a shaky breath. "I do lie. Plotlines like yours can drive a person over the edge, just as easily as my multiple and complicated truths can. But I'll be damned if you manage to beat me! Let's see who drives the other to insanity first!"  
  
"Ooh-wee!" Non-Canonable giggled and clapped his hands. "What fun!"  
  
"What fun indeed." The Loser remarked dryly. "What are you going to say next, hm? That elves work at the North Pole?"  
  
"Of course not! They live in Lothlorien, where all the trees are pink in summertime!"  
  
"P-PINK?!" Loser had gone white in the face.  
  
"Yes, pink!" Non-canonable said. "And it is there where Legolas' mother is forced into marriage with King Thrandy, or whateverhisnameis. And that is why Legolas hates wood-elves..."  
  
"Legolas *is* a wood-elf, you moron!" Loser said, rolling her eyes. "Or to be more specific, he's a Sylvan elf. One of the Moriquendi. Ever heard of those? They're the elves that never saw the light of the Two Trees, and never went to Valinor. The Mirkwood elves are most likely descendants of the Laiquendi, the green-elves that lived in Ossiriand before Beleriand was utterly destoyed--"  
  
"Legolas gets married to Aragorn's neice's uncle's grandfather's counsin's former roommate and has triplets!"  
  
"NO! Oh, I'll stop you yet! Vanyar light-elves, Noldor deep-elves, Teleri sea-elves, their leaders were Ingwe, Finwe, Elwe then Olwe because of Elwe meeting Melian..."  
  
"Oh yes!" Non-Canonable exclaimed. "I know of Melian! She's the one who's married to that dope addict Tom Bombadil, right?"  
  
"Why you...!"  
  
Louis lay there on the carpet, utterly stunned by what he was witnessing.  
  
It was obvious that Loser's knowledge of Middle-earth could prove dangerous, if used unwisely. Although he had read the Lord of The Rings Trilogy less than a year ago, Louis could sense his brain malfunctioning every time The Loser began to spew out large amounts of information with no end in sight. Louis was sure the other people in the bank felt it too.  
  
If The Loser hadn't been focusing her powers *directly* at the Non- Canonable Mr. Mezz, everyone else in the room would have gone totally bonkers a long time ago.  
  
"The dwarves were created by Aule." The Loser continued, deciding to switch to a completly different subject. "Because the Smith-god of the Valar was too impatient to wait for the coming of the Eldar, and therefore attempted to fashion them himself, but did not succeed--"  
  
"D-dwarves! Th-the ugly miners! Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to w-work they g- go..."  
  
"Hah! You're weakening! I c-can tell!"  
  
"So are you, you little wizard-hatted upstart!"  
  
"Ori and N-nori and Dori and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur and Balin and Dwalin and Oin and Gloin and Fili and Kili and Thorin Oakensheild who is descended from Thrain from Thror!"  
  
"Shut up! Those thirteen dweebs all sailed down the Anduin, and opened a beach resort in Gondor!"  
  
"Wrong! Fili, Kili and Thorin died in the Battle of Five Armies, Balin and Ori and Oin died in Moria later on..."  
  
"STOP!!!!" Non-Canonable screamed. He was visibly sweating beneath his suit and ski mask. He bent over double, clutching his head in pain.  
  
"H-had enough?" Loser demanded, swaying a little herself. That last remark about dwarves and beach resorts had really gotten to her.  
  
Non-Canonable's head snapped up. He glared daggers at the girl ten feet away from him.  
  
"You may have won this battle, Loser!" He screamed. "But I *will* win the war! I'll be back, mark my words!"  
  
Abandoning the bags of money that had been filled up at his order, he sumbled out of Seaside Bank as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
The Loser paused. For a moment, she looked like she was going to chase after Non-Canonable. Then, face pale, she keeled over backwards and hit the floor with a loud *thump*.  
  
Chaos exploded. The bank customers ran helter skelter, while one of the tellers yelled for someone to call the police.  
  
Scrambling to his feet, Louis crawled over to Loser and shook her shoulder. She didn't move, althought the big fat book remained tightly clutched in her hand. Even when unconcious, she wouldn't let go of it.  
  
"Boy! Get her over here, quickly!"  
  
The deep rough voice seemed to reverberate in the air, and Louis' head shot up. Gawihir was just outside the broken glass wall, flapping his wings in an effort to stay in the same place.  
  
"Don't goggle, human! Bring her to the window, now!"  
  
Police sirens could be heard from outside. Grunting, Louis grabbed Loser under the armpits and hauled her across the floor towards the glass wall.  
  
Raising his talons, Gwaihir leaned in towards the building and grabbed The Loser. Unfortunatly, Louis hadn't yet let go of the Superhero, so he got grabbed too.  
  
Gwaihir pulled away from the building and soared over the sea, flying away from Seaside Bank as fast as he could.  
  
Louis P. Daisy, clutched in the claws of a giant eagle, screamed bloody murder for the second time that day.  
  
Louis' screams were cut off as Gwaihir zoomed straight upwards. The abrupt change in air pressure had immediatly caused the boy to pass out.  
  
***************  
  
R&R? Pretty please? 


	3. Nits and an Explanation

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR. Nor do I own Gwaihir the Windlord. But I made up practically all the other characters in this fic.  
  
Sorry for the delay. Severe lack of inspiration...but it's all better now! New installments can be expected once a week, prolly on Mondays.  
  
Canon Police- Actually, Ents call their drinks Entwash too. Look it up, both the river and the beverage have the same name. : )  
  
****************  
  
"Uhhhhh..."  
  
Head and body aching equally, Louis P. Daisy groggily opened his eyes.  
  
He immediatly slammed them shut again as harsh, bright light flooded his vision. Waving a hand in front of his face, he toppled over and landed on his side.  
  
"Aaaaaaaaaaahh! Make the light go away! Turnitoff!" He mumbled.  
  
"No *way* am I turning it off!" A no-nonsense feminine voice proclaimed. "The Simaril's the only light source in the whole darn Control Room, and without it I can't see a bloody thing! You think Loser'd put in some regular light bulbs, but nooooo..."  
  
Louis heard footsteps walking towards him, then felt a prescence by his side.  
  
"Here. Drink this."  
  
A cup was brought to Louis' lips. He drank greedily for about two seconds-- until his his guts started burning from the inside out.  
  
Louis jerked upwards and spat out what he hadn't already swallowed.  
  
"What the heck?!" He gasped, coughing and trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes fully, and stared at his surroundings with an expression of disbeleif  
  
He was propped up against the wall of what looked to be a fairly large cave.  
  
The walls and ceilings were covered with strange runes, and a white globe of burning light hung suspended from the middle of the ceiling by a single wire.  
  
Suddenly, it all came rushing back to Louis. The lunatic bank robbery...falling out a window...being caught by an eagle--  
  
He heard a giggle, and turned his head to the side.  
  
A girl was kneeling next to him, holding a wooden goblet and smiling. She couldn't be more than three years older than him. Her hair was short, black and quite untidy, pinned in random places with red kiddie barettes. She wore a dark green tunic and a pair of raggedy black leggings that cut off at her upper ankle. She had no shoes, and wore a ring set with a large sapphire on her middle finger.  
  
"Sorry." She said, trying not to laugh at Louis' choking fit. "Maybe I shouldn't have given you that! But we're out of drinking water at the moment, and the only other drinks here are things like beer and wine. No soda." She added mournfully. "No soda at all."  
  
Loius struggled to sit up, still gasping.  
  
"Wh--what *was* that stuff?" He managed to get out.  
  
"Orc-liquor. Sets fire to your guts, but wakes you up right quick. I would have given you Miruvor, but we're out of that too."  
  
Smiling, the girl extended a hand.  
  
"Suilad, and nice to meet you! Welcomt to The Loser's Lair. My name's Nits. I'm The Loser's receptionist."  
  
"Her what?!"  
  
"Receptionist." Nits said, pointing across the room to one of the far walls. It boasted a large computer screen and keyboard.  
  
"That's the SSC." Nits said. "Short for the 'Seeing Stone Computer'. We call it that because it's powered by a Palantir. I sit on my arse at that desk, day in and day out, taking calls from weak, moronic people who need The Loser to fly in on a brown eagle and save their butts. In addition to that, I'm also in charge of keeping this freaking *warren* clean, tidy and well stocked! And I don't even get paid for the last part!" Nits stood up and kicked the wall in annoyance.  
  
"Um..." Louis said, not knowing quite how to react.  
  
Nits seemed to suddenly notice him again, and flashed Louis another of her maniacal grins.  
  
"Anyway, The Loser's out now stopping another criminal offense." She said, still smiling. "You can't keep a good superhero down too long! Even if they had suffered a severe concussion... But anyway, she told me to watch over you and make sure you were okay. She said you saved her."  
  
Nits leaned down and offered Louis a hand. He took it, and she quickly hauled the shrimpy-looking boy to his feet.  
  
"In fact, I suspect she'll be back any moment no--" Nits was interupted by a loud banging noise, like a garage door being slammed up.  
  
It was followed by the thick noise of wings flapping.  
  
An agonized screech.  
  
A loud voice yelling 'slow down!!!'.  
  
And then a shuddering crash that made Louis wince.  
  
"Servant of Manwe and Windlord he may be," Nits sighed, shaking her head sadly. "But Gwaihir's yet to learn the art of navigation inside a cramped cave entrace"  
  
  
  
"Mellon!" shouted a muffled voice through the walls.  
  
Louis yelped, jumping about three feet in the air as a door suddenly materialized in one of the walls.  
  
The door was immediatly flung inwards, revealing The Loser, hatted and cloaked in her superhero glory.  
  
One arm clutched the oversized copy of Lord of the Rings...the other was curled around an oversized grocery bag.  
  
"*'Quel udome*! Good evening, everyone!' The Loser said cheerily. She deposited her book on a low table near the door, then hung her hat and cloak on a coathanger right next to the table.  
  
Striding into the room, she handed the bag to Nits, who squealed in excitement.  
  
"STUFF!!! Finally, you remember to go out and get more supplies! Oh, this is most splendid!"  
  
Unceremoniously, the red-baretted girl plopped down onto the floor, quickly taking in an inventory of what The Loser had bought.  
  
"Frozen coney meat, pipeweed, suspenders, elf hair, bag of coal, cram..."  
  
Smiling, The Loser turned to face a wide-eyed Louis.  
  
"Uh...h-hi." Louis said, feeling a little awed,  
  
"Suilad, my freind." The Loser said, bowing slightly. "I greatly appreciate your actions at the bank. Had you not aided me, I would have been apprehended by the authorities and my identity revealed. For that, I am in your debt."  
  
"Aw," Louis said, digging his hands into his pockets and blushing a little. "It was nothing, really. I mean, you saved me too."  
  
"Yes, but it was my responsibility to do so." The Loser said. "It is part of my job to save lives. What you did, you did with true bravery. For my part I am beholden to you."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"Cool." Louis said.  
  
"...Hithlain rope, Bree cheese, powdered mushrooms--that's everything we needed! I'll just go put all this away..."  
  
"Not so fast, my kind-hearted yet mentally unstable receptionist!" The Loser commanded, grabbing hold of Nits' shoulders as she got up and tried to walk away.  
  
"What did I do now?" Nits whined.  
  
"Nothing felonious. I just want to know if you'd found any info on that Non-Canonable Mr. Mezz character."  
  
"Can't I put the perishables away first?"  
  
"No."  
  
Grumbling, Nits deposited the grocery bag on the floor, then shuffled over to the computer.  
  
She sat down, and began typing rapidly on the keyboard.  
  
The screen immediatly lit up, revealing a picture of a seedy looking man with watery eyes.  
  
"Meet Mr. Harley H. Mezz." Nits proclaimed. "Thirty-nine year old accountant and stamp collector. He hates literature with every fiber of his being, because he's too dim to understand it or control it."  
  
Nits clicked her mouse and the picture of Harley Mezz vanished, replaced by a helicopter shot of an exploded building. Paper was flying everywhere.  
  
""One fateful day, Harley was dragged off to a board meeting by his boss. The meeting took place at the local library, which wasn't really a big deal to anyone except Harley. Unfortunatly, it became a big deal when a gas pipe in the building got blocked up, and the library exploded. Harley Mezz was buried alive in a *huge* pile of book pages. And the overdose of several thousand plot combinations; combined with his cologne, caused...radioactive mutation."  
  
"What?" Louis said, completly stupefied.  
  
Nits shot him an icy glare, then continued.  
  
"ANYWAY, that's how Harley H. Mezz mutated into Non-Canonable: Destroyer of logical plotlines, and enemy to good authors everywhere!"  
  
A final click of the mouse revealed the scanned image of a newspaper clipping, detailing the events that had occurred six hours ago in Seaside Bank. Next to it was a police sketch of Non-Canonable, his head thrown back, laughing maniacally.  
  
"Sorry to say it Loser, but I think you've met your match this time." Nits said, shaking her head.  
  
"Nonsense!" The Loser said. "He's just...really really powerful. I'll think of a way to beat him, mark my words! Even if I have to bite his fingers off! No, wait, that's a bad comparison..."  
  
"I"m badly confused." Louis whimpered, obviously in mental distress.  
  
"Of course you are!" Nits patted him gently on the head. "Stupid little stick-child...which reminds me Loser, how're we gonna get him home?"  
  
"Uh..." The Loser scratched her head "I guess we'll get Gwaihir to fly him home. C'mon Lou...  
  
As Louis found himself being gently propelled through the door by The Loser, he twisted his head around and waved to the figure still seated at the computer.  
  
"Bye Nits!" He called. "Thanks for the Orc-drink! I think..."  
  
Nits wan't listening. She had turned the computer off and was in the process of picking up the grocery bag, muttering something about how eagle food, with all its grisly bits of meat, was always the first thing to rot in room temperature.  
  
The Loser steered Louis out the door, into a tunnel that immediatly forked. They took the left hand fork, and kept on walking. Louis could feel air wafting from somewhere up ahead, as well as loud rustling noises. The noises reminded him of his grandmother's parakeet ruffling its feathers-- except magnified to a spectacular degree.  
  
The Loser let go of Louis' shoulders, and moved to walk beside him.  
  
"I meant what I said about being beholden to you." She said. "So from now on, I'll protect you from all the extremly bad things that come your way. If you are in trouble at any point, all you have to do is find a phone and contact me. The number is 1-800-F-E-L-L-O-W-S-H-I-P. You'll remember that?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Thanks!"  
  
************  
  
R&R, please! 


End file.
